


Dutch Courage

by akire_yta



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip needs to work up some dutch courage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dutch Courage

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for possible dubious/impaired consent (alcohol)
> 
> Written a long time ago, but for some reason, never posted. Onto the show.

"Hoshi!"

She shook her head so fiercely several strands of jet-black hair slid loose and whipped around her face. "Trust me, Trip, it's foolproof. Malcolm doesn't remember a thing while drunk why do you think he's so careful about drinking during ship functions?"

"He didn't seem to mind drinking on the shuttlepod that time," Trip sulked, unwilling to concede.

Hoshi smiled and pushed her point. "Trip, he thought he was going to die. I doubt the morning after the night before was high on his list of concerns." She reached up and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Get him drunk. Tell him. See how he reacts."

"What if he freaks out?"

"He'll have forgotten before the hangover kicks in."

A worse thought struck Trip. "What if he doesn't?"

Hoshi grinned, showing teeth. "Then I'm sure waking up in bed with you will be sufficient reminder." She ducked her head as she stepped nimbly away.

"Hoshi!"

"Trip!" she parroted back. "I wouldn't be donating the booze if I  
didn't think it would work," she reiterated. "You'll have to do the rest. Trust me, Trip. Would I steer you wrong?" She looked up at him through her lashes, and watched him melt before her assault.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it! I'll do it, you foul wench."

She laughed and stepped up to him to give him a sisterly hug. "Just remember, I want all the details."

~##~

The box Hoshi had left for him on his desk had enough proof in it to start a small distillery. Picking a bottle at random, he pulled it out, read the label, and whistled. Good stuff, he thought to himself as he cracked the seal and poured a shot into one of the glasses she had so thoughtfully provided. He wondered where she got it all from as he poured the alcohol down his throat and let the burn fill his unsettled stomach.

The door chimed, and he let the bottle rejoin its brothers with a glassy clatter. Reaching over, he thumbed the door release.

Malcolm was standing there, wearing sweats and a slightly worried, confused expression. Wordlessly, Trip bowed his friend into his quarters.

Malcolm's nose wrinkled slightly at the alcohol fumes as he took in Trip's wrinkled t-shirt, the empty glass in his hand, the box of booze on the desk. "Trip, are you okay?"

Avoidance, Trip decided, was he best strategy. And he was brought up to always be hospitable. Kill two birds with one stone. "Drink?"

"No thankyou."

Damn. "Come on, Malcolm. It's no fun getting drunk alone."

Malcolm moved as warily as a man in a minefield as he crossed the small space to stand between Trip and the bottles. "Why are you getting drunk, Trip?"

Damn, busted. "Because I feel like it," he offered lamely.

"Is there..." Malcolm paused, obviously in unfamiliar territory. "Is there anything you want to talk about, Trip?"

Taking the metaphorical bull by the horns, Trip grabbed the bottle and another glass. "Have a drink," he repeated, more forcefully. Obviously expecting the drink to lead to confession, Malcolm took the glass without demure and downed the shot with a toss of his head. He blinked  
at the sting of the alcohol, but offered no other comment. "Come on, Malcolm, try and keep up," he lied outrageously as he refilled the shotglass. "Unless you feel you can't hold it."

~##~

"And so I kissed her!" Malcolm's speech was just beginning to slur, his faintly breathy giggles still echoing around the room. Malcolm giggled when he got drunk, Trip remembered.  
He groped over Malcolm's legs, looking for a bottle at floor level that they hadn't decimated. "I can't believe you did that to a lady. What'd she do?"

Malcolm grinned like a child and upended the last of the scotch. "She slapped my face and ran screaming for the constable."

Half-draped over Malcolm's legs, he looked upwards blearily, seeking his face. "She didn't?"

Malcolm nodded and with the care of a drunk put the bottle aside. "She did. Eagle Scouts' honor."

Trip giggled and collapsed where he was, curling up slightly so his head was cushioned up against Malcolm's thigh. "I wouldn't have slapped ya. I woulda kissed ya back."

The body beneath him stiffened. 'Oh shit,' the single sober part of Trip's brain cursed. 'Did I just say that out loud?'

The leg moved away from his head. Forcing himself to breath, even though he felt like puking, Trip kept his eyes firmly on the industrial weave of the floor covering. A head, upside-down, moved into view. "Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't believe you." Lightning fast, even while drunker than a skunk, Malcolm pushed in, putting his body behind the lunge. Catching Trip's shoulder, he caught the other man up and pushed him against the frame of his bunk with almost bone-jarring force. Trip opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a noise of complaint, Malcolm was there, all liquid heat and smooth skin, his mouth moving to fit the contours of Trip's, his tongue darting out to lick the other man's lips. Trip did the first thing that came into his mind.

He moaned with shameless abandon and spread his legs, grabbing Malcolm around the shoulders to drag him up and against his chest. Malcolm moved with serpentine grace, his fingers spreading out along the curve of Trip's ribs, fiery hot even through a layer of fabric.

Trip groaned even louder as Malcolm moved, beginning to etch little nips and sucks along the line of his jaw. "Trip?"

"Yeah," he panted.

"How drunk are you?"

Forcing himself to focus, he looked over to the box that Hoshi had gifted him. Two, maybe three beers, plus whatever Malcolm had let him have out of the scotch. "Not that drunk," he arched as Malcolm sealed his lips over the pulse point in his neck and sucked. "Getting soberer by the second."

A graze of teeth over skin. "Good."

It seemed only polite. "How drunk are you?"

A slight chuckle. "Not very. I have a rather high tolerance to scotch." The long rasp of tongue under his jawline, causing a frisson that ran the entire length of Trip's body. "When I choose to."

Trip fisted the back of Malcolm's shirt, wanting to get his hands, his mouth, anything, onto skin. But Malcolm had him fairly pinned against the frame of the bunk. "Handy skill."

It sounded more like a lions purr than a human voice. "You have no idea."

"You got any other secret talents I should know about." Trip felt wanton, abandoning himself to sensation ever as some part of him managed to continue having an almost rational conversation. He arched his back into the touch as Malcolm's hands meandered lower.

"Oh, quite a few, Mister Tucker." Trip opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Malcolm's all-devouring grin. "For example."

The head ducked down, and Trip almost bucked off the floor as Malcolm mouthed his half-hard cock through the thin fabric of his sweat pants. He writhed on the floor, not caring how ridiculous he looked, not caring a damn about anything except the hot, wet sensation seeping through too many layers of clothes and making him harder than he had been since they'd shipped out. He tipped his head forward, not giving a  
damn about the awkward angle, just wanting to watch Malcolm mouth his dick. "Fucking hell."

Beguiling eyes looked up at him from beneath too-pretty lashes. "I'd rather you fuck me."

Trip forgot how to breathe.

Malcolm slid back up along Trip's body, rearranging him as he moved so by the time their faces were level again, they were both lying straight out on the floor. "But there's so much else I'd like to do with you like this. Bed?"

"Yes, please."

Malcolm planted his hands on either side of Trip's head, pushing himself up until his body formed an inverted triangle over Trip. Reaching down, he planted a slow, nasty kiss on Trip's mouth, teeth nipping at lips, tugging him up in a none-too-subtle indication.

Trip tumbled into bed to land on top of Malcolm, the other man taking his weight with barely more than a grunt. Trip didn't wait, just dove right in, mouth licking and tasting whatever skin was available. Firm hands gripped his head as he began to nibble down Malcolm's throat. "Don't leave a mark. I've got sparring training tomorrow." His hands dragged down Trip's back and hooked themselves under the hem of his  
tee-shirt. "They have no respect for their commanding officer."

Trip laughed at the thought of the security team giving their highly regarded leader hell for showing up with a hickey as he moved lower, nuzzling at the collar of Malcolm's shirt. Following his silent commands, he broke away and pulled back slightly to let Malcolm slip him out of his shirt. As the wadded up ball of clothe rebounded against the far wall, Trip dove back in again, his hands questing up under  
Malcolm's long shirt to find the smooth, hard planes of his stomach. Not even waiting, he ducked his head and began licking broad strokes along the exposed strip of skin between shirt and pants, and was gratified to feel Malcolm shiver slightly beneath him.

"Ticklish?"

"Unfortunately."

Trip grinned broadly. "Relax, I'll be good." He pushed back into a sitting position to watch Malcolm's expert shimmy out of his sweat shirt, licking his lips at the long smooth lines that were revealed to him. "Nice," he murmured.

"I'm glad I meet with your approval." Pushing up on his elbows, Malcolm stole a kiss. His mouth still tasted of scotch, blended with the unmistakable scent that was uniquely him. Trip closed his eyes and moved with Malcolm as he lay them back down, taking most of his weight on his arms as they settled against the sheets. The flutter of Malcolm's eyelashes against his cheek told him that he had closed his own eyes. The little sighs and moans he was making in the back of his throat told Trip that Malcolm was relaxing against him  
again. Taking the initiative, Trip broke the kiss and began sliding down Malcolm's chest, taking his time to identify every mark and scar.

Swirling his tongue around Malcolm's belly button, he paused at the waistband. "Can I..?"

Malcolm just waved him down regally, eyes still closed, face still almost glowing with pleasure. With a nervous lick of his lips, Trip hooked his fingers into the waistband and gently eased his pants down.

He had done this before, certainly, but for some reason he felt more nervous than he had the first time he had ever tried this. It was Malcolm, he decided. He wanted to make this more than good, more than memorable, because he knew Malcolm wasn't the type to give second chances.

Trip started slowly, cautiously, seeing what he liked, what made him react. Long tongue sliding up the underside, against the vein caused a long, slow shiver. Malcolm writhed beneath him as he took the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, relaxing into a rhythm as Malcolm's voice became hoarse, pleading. Breathing through his nose, Trip edged  
down further, forcing himself to relax, focussing on the inarticulate little cries of pleasure the man beneath him was mewling. "Trip, please, I'm going..."

Trip pulled back sharply, dragging out of Malcolm a long, drawn-out cry as he shuddered and came. Licking his lips, Trip bent back over, lapping up the salty droplets the glistened on Malcolm's skin. He writhed beneath Trip, his hands coming up to run through his close-cropped hair. "Tickles," Malcolm panted. Trip grinned and licked  
up along Malcolm's flank, the rasp of his tongue almost audible. "Trip!" Malcolm yelped, yanking him ferociously back up and away from sensitive skin to claim a deep kiss.

With an ease that belied their lack of experience with each other, they settled down side-by-side on the bed, kissing each other leisurely, taking the time to explore and experiment. Confident hands slowly roamed up and down Trip's back before sliding beneath his waistband to  
cup the curve of his ass. "Well, that was..."

"Excellent?" Trip asked hopefully.

Malcolm laughed, a sound Trip loved. "That too. I was going to say quick."

Trip frowned and leaned back slightly. "I didn't mean to push"

Malcolm silenced him with a kiss, dragging him back into his body. "Good quick, I mean." He laughed again, quietly. "Then again, we've been the designated ships' old married couple for the past two years, so..."

It was Trip's turn to laugh. "Where'd ya hear that?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "It is tactically sound to access all possible sources of information."

Trip snuggled in to plant a row of kisses under his jaw. "You mean you listened to the grapevine."

Malcolm tried to look dignified and insulted, but the effect was marred by a huge yawn.

Trip leaned back again, studying Malcolm's face, the slowly developing five-o'clock shadow, the dark rings under his eyes. "You look tired."

Malcolm gave a weak grin. "I was actually heading to bed when Hoshi stopped me and asked me to check in with you..." he trailed off as realization set in.

Trip jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the box of bottles. "Who do you think my supplier is?"

Malcolm coolly raised an eyebrow. "Get me drunk and seduce me?"

Trip laughed. "No, get me drunk so I could find my courage to seduce you."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Hoshi Sato: Intergalactic Matchmaker. I may have to have words with her in the morning."

"Be careful. The cost of drinks was a blow-by-blow account."

Malcolm sniffed and snuggled in closer to Trip. "Tell her to take a picture. Mmmm, you're warm."

"And you're sticky."

Malcolm looked down at himself and frowned. "Hold that thought." Clambering bodily over Trip, he disappeared into the bathroom, reemerging a few moments later drying himself with a towel. With a lithe leap, he rolled over Trip and reassumed his original position. "Better?"

Trip reached over to pull up the blankets before winding his arms around Malcolm. "Much." He pressed a kiss to the other man's forehead. "Now get some sleep."

Malcolm murmured his assent, his head already nestled into the crook of Trip's arm. "Goodnight, Trip."

"Goodnight, Malcolm. Sweet dreams."


End file.
